You're The One That I Want
by KarasumaFirestorm
Summary: Hillridge Jr. High is putting on a show! Everything's getting a little crazy...are some new relationships on the horizon?
1. one

Disclaimer: no one mentioned belongs to me, I guarantee it.  
  
Author's note: this started off as just me wanting to do some cute dialogue between the characters, and escalated into actual plot. Go figure! Please R/R!  
  
*Karasuma*Firestorm*  
  
~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~  
  
You're The One That I Want  
  
~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~  
  
Gordo aimed his camera at Lizzie and narrated, "Here is my best friend in the universe, Lizzie McGuire, looking a little green." He turned to Miranda. "Don't you think she looks a little green? I think so."  
  
Lizzie grabbed the camera lens and said evenly, "David Zephyr Gordon, if you don't turn that camera off right this second, so help me, I will have you eat it. Capiche?"  
  
Gordo backed up slightly, but looked more amused than scared. "Ooh, someone's got bite this morning."  
  
"Yeah, it was the biting thing that got me into this in the first place." She clutched her stomach, making a face. "I ate something weird."  
  
Immediately Gordo dropped the arm wielding the camera and put on a concerned face. "Ouch, I'm sorry. One time, my mom made some kugel, and it wasn't as good as my grandma makes it, but it's not that bad, and at least she's trying, you know? And anyway, something wasn't cooked right or something, I don't know, and I had food poisoning for a week."  
  
"Yeah, I remember that," Miranda said. "Wasn't that the week we read Romeo and Juliet?"  
  
Lizzie laughed, despite herself. "I think it was. And you were Juliet, and Larry Tudgeman was Romeo. A match made in heaven."  
  
"Ew, don't remind me," Miranda said, sticking out her tongue. "Way to ick me out, McGuire." She shook her head and walked away.  
  
Lizzie giggled. "Sorry!" she called, then turned to Gordo. "I'm sorry, it's funny. It was funny then, and it's funny now."  
  
"No arguments here. Wish I hadn't missed it."  
  
"Yeah, me too," she said, giving him a half-smile.  
  
Lizzie shut her locker and they started to class. "You look like you're feeling better," he observed.  
  
"Hey...I guess I am. Go figure."  
  
"Laughter is the best medicine," Gordo said sagely.  
  
"I thought for sure it was food poisoning, and I'd die."  
  
"Must you be so melodramatic about everything?"  
  
She shrugged. "It gets me through the day."  
  
They entered the classroom at the same time, and proceeded to get stuck in the doorway. Lizzie giggled and stepped back slightly to un-wedge herself. Gordo did the same, and they stepped forward again, getting stuck again. They were both laughing wildly now, stepping back.  
  
"Hey, Stooges, if you don't mind, the rest of us sort of want to get to class," a voice said nastily behind them. Gordo and Lizzie turned to see Kate glowering at them from the hallway, and the entire class staring at them.  
  
Lizzie felt embarrassed, but found herself saying, "Kate wants to go to class? You must've been replaced with a pod person or something."  
  
Gordo snorted with laughter. Kate turned her head sharply to glare at him, and he hid his mouth behind his hand, still giggling. Kate turned her vengeful glare to Lizzie once more. "Just...just get out of my way, McGuire," she said irritably. It wasn't so much that Lizzie's response had been that witty or that mean, but Kate just wasn't used to Lizzie fighting back, so she was taken off guard. She pushed between the two, her shoulder knocking against Lizzie's. But Lizzie ignored it.  
  
As Kate sauntered into the classroom, Gordo favored Lizzie with a grin. "You're spunky today, Lizzie."  
  
She smiled. "Aren't I, though."  
  
He swept his arm grandly at the door. "You first."  
  
"Thanks."  
  
"You guys are like Siegfried and Roy without the tigers," Miranda grumbled as Lizzie and Gordo took their seats. Gordo next to her, and Lizzie in front of her.  
  
"Maybe you're thinking of Penn and Teller," Gordo suggested helpfully.  
  
Miranda rolled her eyes. "I *wish* I could get one of you guys to shut up permanently."  
  
"Careful what you wish for," Lizzie sing-songed, while Gordo pantomimed losing his voice. He clutched at his neck dramatically, and made a few choked gurgles. Lizzie giggled.  
  
Miranda shook her head and bent over her notebook. "I don't know you two," she said.  
  
Mrs. Wortman walked in the room then. "We're not having class today, kids."  
  
"Woo-hoo!" Ethan shouted triumphantly from the row by the window. Tudgeman and Mrs. Wortman cast him withering stares.  
  
"We're instead going to an assembly in the auditorium," Mrs. Wortman continued, rolling her eyes.  
  
"Oh, great," Miranda said, doodling in her notebook, "are you two taking your comedy act to a bigger forum than first-period English?"  
  
"After this, we're pursuing a lounge career," Gordo said.  
  
"Vegas, baby, Vegas," Lizzie drawled in her best Elvis impersonation.  
  
"You should really leave the impressions to your brother," Gordo said.  
  
Lizzie turned in her seat to look at him. "D'you think so? 'Cause the other day he was running around the house pretending he was Harry Potter, and Matt is no British schoolboy, let me tell you."  
  
"Miss McGuire! Mr. Gordon! Are you quite finished?" Mrs. Wortman said patiently.  
  
Gordo flashed a pained smile, and Lizzie abruptly faced front.  
  
Miranda blew her bangs off her forehead. "*Thank* you," she muttered.  
  
The class rose to their feet as a group, shuffled through papers and fumbled for backpacks, then filed out the door. One by one, to make sure that they didn't get stuck. Lizzie shot Gordo an amused look.  
  
"I wonder what the assembly's gonna be about?" Gordo asked as the trio walked down the hallway. They held back from the rest of their class, trailing a few steps behind Mrs. Wortman, who was too concerned with keeping Andrew Julian from wandering into the girls' locker room.  
  
"Maybe it's gonna be on Lizzie McGuire's fantastic mood swings," Miranda said darkly.  
  
Lizzie cocked her head at her best friend. "What?"  
  
"I mean, when we first encountered you this morning, you were practically hurling into your locker. And now you're little miss stand-up."  
  
"Well excuse me for trying to add a little spice to my life, Sanchez."  
  
"Heyyy, Liz-zie!" Ethan Craft swooped in from behind.  
  
Lizzie flashed him a smile. "Hey, Ethan."  
  
Gordo and Miranda rolled their eyes and stopped a few steps ahead to give them space.  
  
"So, whaddya think this is for?" Ethan asked.  
  
Lizzie shrugged good-naturedly. "No clue."  
  
"You, uh, you wanna sit with me?"  
  
Gordo and Miranda turned to each other with wide-eyed looks, and Lizzie's jaw dropped a fraction of an inch. This wasn't typical Ethan behavior. But she quickly covered, pasting on a smile and saying, "Sure!"  
  
"Awesome," Ethan proclaimed.  
  
As the foursome started once again for the theater, Lizzie only barely contained the excited squeal threatening to leap out of her throat. 


	2. two

Disclaimer: no one mentioned belongs to me, I guarantee it.  
  
Author's note: some of the reviews deserved responses, so ::gasp!:: I'm actually answering them! That's so...unlike me.  
  
Addie: That wasn't where I was going with this particular fic, but I thought I might do one where I bring in our favorite Italian friends. :) I love the idea, though, thanks.  
  
*  
  
ThePopGurlz: Sorry I didn't include a disclaimer about your friend, since I just made the name up using my baby names book. He's unimportant to the story other than I needed something for Mrs. Wortman to do. And I put a standard disclaimer at the top of every page, in case you haven't read it ^ , but I'll do it again if you insist. Disclaimer: no one mentioned belongs to me, I guarantee it.  
  
*  
  
luvurflyingmonkey123: I can't tell you just yet who the pairings are, but this is probably going to go in a different direction from my other fics, so there's a clue. :)  
  
*  
  
DHCgirl: I seriously love you. You review my things and you're so nice... :D  
  
*  
  
I did notes. I'd love to do a note for all of you, but then we'd have six pages of me not actually telling the story, so...  
  
But in any case, I love you all and thank you thank you thank you a million times over for all of your support and praise. It means a whole hell of a lot.  
  
*Karasuma*Firestorm*  
  
~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~  
  
You're The One That I Want  
  
~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~  
  
They settled in a row of the auditorium: Gordo, Miranda, Lizzie, Ethan. Lizzie flashed a smile at her male neighbor. "So, um," she started, hoping that her conversational skills would get slightly better before her pseudo-date with Ethan was over. "What's up?"  
  
"You know, this and that," Ethan said in standard Ethan form.  
  
"Ssh," Miranda said. "It's starting."  
  
Principal Tweedy strutted to the middle of the stage. "I've gathered you here, first period on a Tuesday morning, to deliver some sad news. Our own Mr. Escobar will be leaving us shortly, having been offered an esteemed position to work off-Broadway."  
  
The class erupted in half-and-half murmurs. Some were thrilled that Mr. Escobar would be getting such a cool job, the other half were sad to see him go. "Aw, man," Ethan said. "I liked Mr. E. He thought I was smart."  
  
"He's the only one," Gordo muttered under his breath, which only Miranda and Lizzie heard. Miranda stifled a giggle, and Lizzie reached across her to swat Gordo's arm.  
  
"If I may," Principal Tweedy continued, raising his hands to quiet the crowd. "Mr. Escobar's departure also marks the absence of a drama coach. Now normally, I would be forced under these circumstances to cancel this semester's school play--" at this, he was met with indignant protests, which he waved aside impatiently, "--however, I have come to the decision that with the abundance of talent in this room, I will allow the play to be student-produced. That means that you will be in charge of casting, production, and directing in addition to acting."  
  
This time, the auditorium virtually exploded with noise, all of it joyous. Although Lizzie knew that most of these kids wouldn't get involved at all, much less even go see the play, it was in no uncertain terms, extremely cool for Principal Tweedy to give lowly middle school students so much faith and responsibility. It was like he really respected them.  
  
Tweedy went on to give more announcements, way more mundane than his opener, and Lizzie and her friends huddled, discussing.  
  
"It should totally be a musical," Miranda said.  
  
"Yeah, you're a great singer," Lizzie contributed enthusiastically. "And Gordo is a shoo-in for director."  
  
Gordo went slightly red. "Thanks."  
  
"Of course."  
  
"What about you?" he asked. "Are we going to see Miss McGuire's name in lights?"  
  
"Aw, yeah!" Ethan said. "Lizzie, you *gotsta* do this! Your voice, it's *smokin'*!"  
  
This time it was Lizzie who went red. "Thanks, Ethan," she said, looking down. "But I get huge stage fright."  
  
Gordo, sensing her discomfort, changed the subject. "So you guys think we should do a musical?" he prompted.  
  
Lizzie's eyes lit up. "Totally! I think it should be Grease, you know? I think Ethan would make a great Danny..." She flashed him an adoring smile, but as usual, Ethan was oblivious to her obvious crush.  
  
The assembly was over before they knew it, and they went to second period. Mrs. Stebel was on maternity leave, meaning that they had Mr. Dig for an indefinite period of time. At the end of class, he clapped to get their attention, and said, "Since I'm going to be sticking around the halls of Hillridge for awhile, I've talked with Principal Tweedy, and I'm going to be faculty advisor for the play. That being said, there's going to be a meeting today after school in the auditorium for anyone interested in this."  
  
As Gordo, Lizzie, and Miranda started for the door, Mr. Dig said, "Mr. Gordon?"  
  
They stopped. Gordo raised an eyebrow. "Yeah?"  
  
"I hope you'll be coming to the meeting. I can't think of a person better suited for directing this."  
  
"That's what I said," Lizzie said proudly.  
  
"Seriously consider it, Mr. Gordon?" Mr. Dig asked. "I know that theater isn't your usual forte, but all the same..." he trailed off suggestively.  
  
~~~~~  
  
That afternoon, Lizzie, Miranda, and Gordo found themselves in the auditorium with a bunch of other people, including Kate and Claire. Lizzie grimaced in their general direction, taking seats as far away from them as she dared. She didn't notice when Tudgeman snuck into the back of the theater (no one did), but she did notice when Ethan paraded in and took a seat next to her.  
  
Lizzie swallowed a squeal. Ethan Craft was sitting next to her. She smiled at him, not able to believe she was about to do this, but she was pretty sure he was just confused. "Um, Kate's over there," she said, pointing. Kate, her 'look-at-me' sensors on full tilt, looked over at Lizzie, saw Lizzie and Ethan, and displayed a range of emotions in rapid succession. The ones she lingered on most were confusion, and her final display: hatred.  
  
It was all Lizzie could do not to shrink back in her seat. Instead, she pretended like she hadn't seen Kate's death glare, even though they both knew she certainly had.  
  
Ethan smiled at her in his standard clueless-but-kind way. "Yeah, I know. I saw her."  
  
"So...shouldn't you be sitting with her?" Lizzie said, completely perplexed.  
  
"I wanted to sit with you, Lizzie," he said, and Lizzie felt her body melt. In fact, she was quite surprised to look down and find herself very much solid. "You...you did?" she squeaked.  
  
"Yeah, of course." Like it was the simplest thing in the world.  
  
At this point, he focused his gaze on the stage, oblivious to anything else because that was Ethan's way. Miranda leaned over Gordo, the both of them staring at Lizzie like she'd grown a third head.  
  
"Is *Ethan Craft* sitting next to you?" Miranda said, awed.  
  
"Yeah," Lizzie marveled, wanting to gloat but still too bemused to have it fully sink in.  
  
"He does know that Kate's sitting over there, right?" Gordo said.  
  
"He said he wanted to sit with me," Lizzie said. "Me. Lizzie. McGuire. Lizzie McGuire."  
  
Miranda shoved her open palm in Lizzie's face with the full intention of shutting her up, which it did. "Okay, *we* know who you are."  
  
"And I guess Ethan does too," Lizzie said, smugness creeping into her voice.  
  
Gordo looked to Miranda. "Did I make a wrong turn in the hallway?" he asked. "Because this is the Twilight Zone. Not the auditorium."  
  
Miranda nodded slowly. "Must be," she said. She settled back into her seat, shaking her head. "Last time I ever follow *you*."  
  
Lizzie rolled her eyes, ready to smite them with her sharp tongue, but Mr. Dig appeared on the stage. "People, people. If you're here, you must be interested in participating in the school play. If you're not, I suggest you leave now. And bring us a pizza." He looked around the crowd patiently, waiting for any wayward middle schoolers to realize they weren't supposed to be here, but no one got up. He grinned. "Excellent. You all seem to be devoted thespians. Or otherwise," he amended, noticing Gordo in the audience. "Now, to start, I'm going to have you throw out your suggestions for what play we should do, and then we'll take a nice, democratic vote."  
  
Lizzie's hand shot in the air. "Grease!" she called out.  
  
"Smokin'!" Ethan enthused, beaming at Lizzie. "I love that flick!"  
  
"She suggested that this morning," Gordo said, disbelieving because they'd both sat next to her. Ethan didn't hear him, and he shook his head in amazement.  
  
A few more proposals were thrown out, like Hamlet and Macbeth, but they were all half-hearted. When the voting came, it was almost completely unanimous for Lizzie's suggestion. She grinned proudly, buried under the weight of Ethan's approving stare.  
  
"So grease is the word," Mr. Dig declared. "Excellent. Now all we have to do is determine a director, in place of Mr. Escobar. Like always, if you want to work on crew, you can volunteer, and casting will be held this Friday. Any nominations for director?"  
  
Once again, Lizzie's hand flew into the air. "David Gordon!" she yelled, which caused a few people to shoot her strange looks. "Gordo," she amended, and the confused ones nodded. This confirmation of his identity only served to make Gordo go slightly red, somewhat embarrassed that he may *never* be known as David.  
  
"Anyone else?" Mr. Dig asked, but this time no one answered. "All in favor of our Mr. Gordon?"  
  
Pretty much every hand in the auditorium was raised high. Gordo went even more red and slunk into his seat, but Miranda and Lizzie, grinning, poked him incessantly until he acknowledged Mr. Dig. "I'll do it," he said finally. 


	3. three

Disclaimer: no one mentioned belongs to me, I guarantee it.  
  
Author's note: this chapter is really short, I apologize. It's lame filler. But the next one should be fairly long and dramatic, so sit tight.  
  
*Karasuma*Firestorm*  
  
~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~  
  
You're The One That I Want  
  
~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~  
  
Gordo was exhausted. He'd been at the school all afternoon and well into the evening, holding cast auditions with Mr. Dig. Then they'd stayed an extra hour, deliberating over who was the best. Gordo wanted to shine light favorably on Lizzie and Miranda; not just because they were his best friends, but they'd been really good. Pity, Kate and Claire had been really good, too. Still, he believed that he and Mr. Dig had made the best casting choices.  
  
Gordo stopped at his locker and got out his backpack. Thank God it was Friday, because all he wanted was to go straight to sleep and not have to worry about piles of homework. Heading for the door, within twenty feet of the auditorium, Gordo heard someone passionately belting out, "Oh, I got chilllllls, they're multiplyin'. And I'm looosing controlll. 'Cause the pow-er! You're supplyin'. It's *electrifyin'*!"  
  
Whoever they were, they were preatty good. Gordo hoped that they could act as well as they sang, because he could easily have a Danny here. He pushed open the door to an empty auditorium. Empty save for one person on the stage, reveling in the would-be spotlight.  
  
Gordo did a double take.  
  
*Tudgeman*?  
  
~~~~~  
  
"Yeah," Larry Tudgeman said, flexing his fingers and leaning back in his seat. "Always been a big fan of Grease. So when you chose it for the play, I just knew I had to do it."  
  
"Tudgeman," Gordo said tactfully, "you know that most people at school are hoping that Ethan Craft gets the lead."  
  
"I know. But really now, Gordo, have you heard him sing?" Tudgeman shook his head emphatically. "Not pretty. And you and I both know that watching Ethan trying to memorize a script will be nothing short of a train wreck."  
  
"Gotta agree with you there," Gordo said.  
  
"I was hoping you'd get my back with this, Gordo," Tudgeman said earnestly. "I know I'm not popular, but I'm the best man for the job. You gotta understand."  
  
"Oh, I'm hearing you."  
  
"You're the only one who can help me. I'm not looking for instant popularity. I just really wanna do this play. Help a guy out."  
  
"Hmm," Gordo muttered. "You didn't show up for auditions today."  
  
"Well, I didn't want to get laughed offstage in front of everyone."  
  
"Laughed offstage? You were good, Larry."  
  
"I know I am. But they wouldn't even give me a chance to try, and you know it."  
  
"If you're afraid of the crowd now, how can you handle a huge audience?"  
  
"That's completely different. I've got the suave and poise to handle that sort of thing, but that would be with the knowledge that I'd already bagged the role, ergo, endless confidence. With things so uncertain, such as an audition with the prying eyes of Hillridge upon me, I'd choke. Please, Gordo?" Tudgeman asked, his tone and his eyes taking on a serious, almost pleading quality that Gordo had never seen before.  
  
"Well..." 


	4. four

Disclaimer: no one mentioned belongs to me, I guarantee it.  
  
Author's note: Lizzie/Gordo? Lizzie/Larry? Lizzie/Ethan? Lizzie/anyone? Who knows! Well, I know. Sort of. I guess you'll just have to stay tuned and find out.  
  
As a sidenote (I'm infamous for those), I don't know the first thing about Grease, seeing as how I've seen it once. So if you were expecting to see lots of big musical numbers and lots of quoted dialogue, you probably won't. My apologies to any Grease-afficiandos that might be reading this.  
  
*Karasuma*Firestorm*  
  
~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~  
  
You're The One That I Want  
  
~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~  
  
Monday morning, Lizzie bounced to the auditorium for the play announcements. Gordo had been absolutely infuriating all weekend, refusing to tell her who'd made it. Male and female roles had been on different days, with closed auditions, so she hadn't gotten to see Ethan's performance, or even who else had tried out.  
  
Lizzie wasn't sure how she did. She'd been pretty nervous, so her voice had faltered a few times while she'd been reading lines, but her singing had been spot-on, nothing if not dynamic. Miranda had been pretty good with the singing, so-so with the acting.  
  
Lizzie reached the list, surrounded by a crowd of people. She took a deep breath to steel herself, then pushed in. Elbowing her way to the front, she scanned the list. Lizzie, Lizzie, Lizzie...she didn't see it. Lizzie's shoulders slumped, and in her moment of defeat, she got swept up by the crowd.  
  
And then she saw it.  
  
No wonder she hadn't seen her name before. She'd been checking the bottom of the list, and her name was second from the top.  
  
Sandy.  
  
*Sandy*!  
  
Lizzie went into a state of shock. She'd gotten the lead! Her. Lizzie McGuire. With a soft yelp, she pushed her way out of the throng, grinning widely.  
  
"Frenchy," she heard Kate saying. "I got *Frenchy*."  
  
Lizzie laughed to herself, and then saw Gordo and Miranda standing there, grinning. They knew. Considering that she was late to school most mornings, of course they would already know.  
  
"I GOT THE LEAD!" Lizzie squealed, throwing her arms around Gordo and Miranda in turn.  
  
"Figures," a voice said darkly, and Lizzie saw Kate Sanders glowering at her.  
  
Lizzie put her hands on her hips and fixed Kate with a steely glare. She was *not* in the mood for this. She was trying to celebrate! "What's *that* supposed to mean?"  
  
"Gordork directs the play, and Losie gets the lead. Big coincidence, wouldn't you say?"  
  
"Are you accusing me of favoritism?" Gordo said disbelievingly. "Listen, Kate, *I* didn't make the final casting decisions. Mr. Dig did. So if you wanna go take it out with him..."  
  
Kate made a disgusting face, clearly having hit a wall. She couldn't very well accuse Mr. Dig of favoritism. He was nothing if not fair. Suddenly, Kate's face contorted into a smile. No doubt a mean-spirited smile, knowing Kate. "Well, there is a bright side to this," she said. "McGuire will get the leading man of her dreams. We all know they already have chemistry..." Kate flapped her hand at them, then strode down the hallway through the thinning crowd. "Toodles!"  
  
Confused, Lizzie turned to Gordo. "What's she talking about? Oh! Did Ethan get Danny? Oh, this is gonna be so great, getting to work with Ethan every day..." Lizzie stared off into space dreamily.  
  
Gordo, however, looked alarmed. "You mean you don't know?" he said.  
  
Lizzie was drawn out of her reverie. She stared at her best friends blankly. "Know what?"  
  
"You...you didn't check the whole list?" Gordo hedged.  
  
Lizzie shook her head impatiently. "No. I saw my name, and that was it." Panic seized her, and without waiting for an explanation, she hurried back to the list. Halfway there, the bell rang, and the crowd dispersed completely save for the trio. Which was probably a good thing, because as Lizzie read who her costar would be, she let out a loud howl. "LARRY TUDGEMAN?"  
  
Miranda's eyes went wide and she looked at Gordo, half-questioning, half-stunned. Gordo shrank back against the wall, suddenly terrified of his female friends. Lizzie had fire in her eyes as she stalked over to him. "GORDO! *Tudgeman*? How could you *do* this to me?"  
  
"A little help here..?" Gordo beseeched Miranda, but she was still gaping at him. Clearly, she hadn't read the full list, either.  
  
"He was the best man for the job," Gordo said. "Mr. Dig and I both thought so. He has...he has a really good singing voice," he offered weakly.  
  
"Good singing voice?" Miranda said incredulously, having found her voice. "Good *singing* voice? Gordo, who cares about singing when you're setting Lizzie up for complete social disaster!"  
  
"Complete social disaster!" Lizzie echoed.  
  
"And what about *me*?" Miranda continued. "I'm her understudy! So that means we're *both* banished to the land of the Tudge!"  
  
The warning bell rang then, and Mr. Dig stuck his head into the hallway. "While I'm all for the director and the lead conversing about play politics, I'm being paid to teach you about Revolutionary War politics, so if you don't mind, we'd like to start class?" he said, cocking one eyebrow at them pointedly.  
  
As they started for the door, Lizzie glared at Gordo. "I can't believe you," she hissed.  
  
Gordo flung his arms in the air. "What did I *do*?" he said. "Last week you were all gung-ho for me being in charge, *you* volunteered me to do this, and now all of a sudden, it's a complete disaster? What gives, McGuire?"  
  
Lizzie whirled to face him and jabbed at his chest with her index finger. "What *gives* is that this could've been the perfect opportunity for me to get close to Ethan, and *you* decided to sabotage it and let me get close to *Larry Tudgeman*."  
  
"I can't believe you would do that to her, Gordo," Miranda said, shaking her head sadly. The girls walked into the room, leaving Gordo staring after them, completely bewildered.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Although for the entire day both Miranda and Lizzie had refused to speak to Gordo, but by the time the first rehearsal rolled around, they'd softened to him. But only slightly. They sat with him grudgingly, offering half-hearted hellos. Mr. Dig clapped for attention, and the trio was grateful for the break from the awkwardness. Gordo remained sound in all of his casting decisions.  
  
"Okay, people, here goes. I conferred with our director Friday, and we've come up with a strict rehearsal regimen, copies of which are being passed around now. If for any reason, and it better be a *really* good reason, like an appointment or a funeral, you are unable to make that rehearsal, get word to myself or Mr. Gordon *immediately*, and at least a *week* in advance, so that we can alter the schedule appropriately. Understand this, being in this play is a *privilege*, not a right, and if you feel like you can slack off, there are plenty of other people who would be more than willing to step in and take your place, so treat this with responsibility."  
  
Obediently the would-be thespians and stagehands nodded. Mr. Dig grinned at them all. "Fantastic. That being said, you've all received a copy of the script as well, so those who aren't on the schedule for today may leave." As people started to get up, Mr. Dig added, "Do you know how you get to Broadway? Practice, practice, practice!"  
  
Lizzie checked the schedule in hand. Yep, just as she'd suspected, she was on call this afternoon. Of course, she had the lead, so she was going to be here a lot more than anyone else. "Miss McGuire, it's just you, Mr. Tudgeman, your understudies, Mr. Gordo and myself this afternoon." He clapped his hands again, clearly a favorite gesture. "Make me proud."  
  
There was a long, long pause where nothing happened. Mr. Dig coughed and looked to Gordo. "Mr. Gordon?"  
  
Gordo looked up from his copy of the schedule. "Huh?"  
  
"You're the director, aren't you?"  
  
"What? Oh, yeah. I am."  
  
"Then *direct*," the substitute said, sweeping his hand in the direction of the stage grandly.  
  
"Oh!" Gordo said, jumping to his feet. He flipped through his script quickly, and said, "Okay, Lizzie, Tudgeman, let's start with Danny and Sandy's first meeting, okay?"  
  
"How do you begin and end a statement with the same word like that?" Miranda said teasingly. "You got skill."  
  
"Read along, would you, Miranda?" Gordo said, flashing her a pointed look as Lizzie and Larry climbed onto the stage.  
  
Larry bowed grandly to his costar. "My fair Lady McGuire," he said in one of his ridiculous voices, "such a pleasure it will be working with you."  
  
Lizzie gave him a tight smile. "Right, Larry," she said. "Let's just start this, okay?" 


	5. five

Disclaimer: no one mentioned belongs to me, I guarantee it.  
  
Disclaimer 2: I don't know the first thing about Grease, seeing as how I've seen it once. So if you were expecting to see lots of big musical numbers and lots of quoted dialogue, you probably won't. My apologies to any Grease-afficiandos that might be reading this.  
  
Author's note: sorry this is so late in coming, people! As you know, I've got about twenty seven million other projects going on currently, but this one got cast aside long before even that...then I went on a brief trip, came back, and suffered an intense case of writer's block that left every story temporarily suspended. So by way of apology, this one is extra-long.  
  
*Karasuma*Firestorm*  
  
~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~  
  
You're The One That I Want  
  
~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~  
  
As the days progressed, Lizzie got a lot more comfortable with working with Larry. He was a nice guy, and he was super dedicated to making this play work out. That was really an asset, considering that Gordo was slowly losing his mind.  
  
At lunch one afternoon, Lizzie slid into her seat with all the finesse of someone who was becoming increasingly confident with herself, something that the school play and the endless reinforcement provided by Gordo, Miranda, Tudgeman, and Mr. Dig was building. Miranda was even more confident with the role than Lizzie was, something that nagged at Lizzie's conscience, slowly eroding the self-assurance she herself was building, but she pushed it out of her mind.  
  
"You should've seen Kate at play practice last night," Lizzie told Miranda, seeing as how the brunette had had a dentist appointment and had missed it. "She had a total hissy fit. Right, Gordo?"  
  
The only response from Gordo was a soft snore, his head using his lunch tray as a pillow, nose precarious inches from his mound of mashed potatoes. Lizzie clucked and shook her head. "He's overworking himself. He's at school every afternoon and evening, then he goes home and does homework, then he has to be here first thing in the morning, too."  
  
"He's going to have an ulcer before he's fifteen," Miranda said.  
  
Lizzie rolled her eyes. "Tell me about it."  
  
Suddenly someone slammed their tray on the table. Gordo moaned in his sleep, stirring slightly, but not waking up. The girls looked up, and found Ethan Craft grinning at them. "Hey, Miranda. Liz-zie! What's shakin'?"  
  
"Not much, Ethan," Lizzie said, flashing him a brilliant and adoring smile.  
  
"God, Lizzie, could we turn down the wattage slightly?" Miranda said.  
  
Lizzie's smile faded for the fraction of the second in which she glared menacingly at her female best friend, then turned back to worshipping Ethan. "So how's it going with you?"  
  
"Pretty good," he said. "I got a C on the history quiz!" His chest swelled slightly with pride. Lizzie's smile became decidedly more fixed as she announced, "That's great."  
  
"How's play practice going?" he asked. "I don't get to see you too much."  
  
"It's going pretty good, I've got almost all of my lines memorized. But the musical sequences are hard."  
  
"You'll do great," he said. "You're totally awesome."  
  
Ethan Craft had called her awesome. Lizzie blushed, Miranda gaped, Gordo snored, Ethan kept smiling. "Um...thanks," Lizzie said. She was about to say something else --what, exactly, she wasn't sure of-- but they were interrupted by a soft 'splut' sound, and the three of them looked over to see that Gordo had rolled over into his mashed potatoes.  
  
"Our fearless leader," Miranda commented dryly, as Gordo lifted his head and blinked sleepily.  
  
"Hunh..?" he said, looking around, then crossing his eyes to peer down his nose, the end of which --as well as the left side of his face-- was coated in a layer of bad cafeteria vegetable side dish. He looked disoriented, which soon faded into disgusted.  
  
Lizzie was immediately concerned. "Gordo, are you okay?"  
  
"I'll be okay in a second or two," he muttered, reaching for her napkin then wiping at the side of his face.  
  
"I don't mean that. I mean you've been falling asleep all the time lately. I'm worried about you."  
  
"I'm just stressed, with the play and school and everything," he said. "I'll be fine come opening night...*if* you don't trip during one of your numbers."  
  
Lizzie rolled her eyes. "Okay, I so totally haven't fallen over at all this week. You're exaggerating."  
  
"You've never performed well under stress," Gordo pointed out airily, tossing the wadded up napkin back on Lizzie's tray where he'd gotten it. She glared at it with an expression of mild disgust. "Fine. If this is what I get for trying to be all helpful, then forget it. Work yourself to death, see if I care." She deposited Gordo's soggy napkin on top of his potatoes, then turned to Ethan with a sugary smile. "Wanna get out of here, Ethan?"  
  
"Yeah, sure, sounds good," he said cheerfully, and they strutted out of the courtyard.  
  
Gordo and Miranda watched them go. "What did I do?" Gordo said.  
  
Miranda shrugged, disinterested. "I dunno. Exist?"  
  
He glared at her. "Not helping, Sanchez."  
  
She stuck her tongue out at him, then immediately retracted it, distracted by something over his shoulder. "Incoming."  
  
"What--" Gordo started to say, but Kate Sanders had already stopped in front of them. "Gordo, I think you should recast me."  
  
"*What*?" Gordo and Miranda chorused.  
  
"Are you kidding me? It's too late in the game to recast, and either way, Mr. Dig and I stand firm in our decision for Lizzie as Sandy."  
  
"But...but...*Frenchy*," Kate spluttered, and the two amigos almost laughed at her would-be pitiful look. "Can't you at least make me Lizzie's understudy?"  
  
"Excuse me, she already *has* an understudy," Miranda said, annoyed.  
  
"Do you want me to crush you?" Kate snapped.  
  
"Don't you have people who can do that for you? Or have they all abandoned you now that you're only the comic relief?"  
  
Gordo normally loved anyone taking Kate down a peg, especially when it was Lizzie or Miranda on the fighting end, but as much as he loved seeing the indignant expression on Kate's face, he didn't want his cast getting into anything hostile, so he stepped in quickly, throwing up his hands. "Ladies, retract your claws, okay? Save some of this passion for the stage, and everyone benefits."  
  
Kate fixed her glare on him instead, but after a second or two in which it was apparent that he wasn't planning on getting involved more intensely than director/mediator, she sighed resignedly. "*Fine*, whatever," Kate huffed. "Catch you on the flip, losers," she said with a toss of her hair and started away.  
  
Miranda, however, wasn't going to settle this when she hadn't won. "You seem to be missing Ethan, hmm?" she called.  
  
Kate stopped dead, whirled around so fast that her own hair whipped her in the face, and stared Miranda down with such a death glare that even Gordo swallowed hard. "Watch yourself, Sanchez, you're just an understudy," she spat, and flounced off again.  
  
"Five seconds ago, she was about to lick your shoes to be an understudy," Miranda remarked, biting into her pizza.  
  
Gordo sighed. "I'm not getting paid enough for this." He rubbed at his temple, which was suddenly throbbing.  
  
"You're not getting paid at all," Miranda said, clearly not having noticed his desperate tone.  
  
Gordo didn't know which was the worse part, that Miranda didn't care, or that she was absolutely right.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Meanwhile, Lizzie was nodding stupidly while Ethan chatted away about golf. Lizzie, having attempted golf on several occasions when she was first trying to get Ethan's attention, had found it to be more dull and boring than the annual gnome convention her father dragged her to every year. So her attention was wavering, and when Larry Tudgeman came to a stop in front of them, she was so thrilled for a break in the conversation (more of a monologue, really), that she could have hugged him.  
  
She didn't, of course. It was Larry Tudgeman.  
  
"Hey, Lizzie," Tudgeman said warmly, then noting her companion, added with considerably less emotion, "Ethan."  
  
"Tudgeman!" Ethan proclaimed, for Ethan liked everyone.  
  
"Hey, Larry, what's up?" Lizzie said, smiling.  
  
"I was just wondering if you had the next period free..." he said. "I was hoping we could work on the final number, since we don't have practice tonight."  
  
"We don't?" Lizzie said, then pulled the schedule out of her back jeans pocket where she kept it for double- and triple-checking, unfolded it, and realized that today *was* their day off. "Oh, wow, we don't," she said, refolding the paper and jamming it back in her pocket. She shrugged and smiled. "Yeah, I just have study hall next period. I'm glad you asked--I was super-worried about the finale, and wanted to practice it with you *without* Gordo breathing down my neck."  
  
"He's a bit overzealous, isn't he?" Larry agreed.  
  
Lizzie nodded, but she felt guilty for even thinking about putting down her best friend, so she quickly added, "Well, he's really stressed. He practically lives in the auditorium."  
  
"He doesn't live there next period, I checked. He has AP English, and Mr. Dig said we could borrow the stage if we so direly needed."  
  
"We direly do," Lizzie said, and they laughed.  
  
Ethan looked back and forth between them, looking confused (which was normal for him). "What's going on?"  
  
"OH!" Lizzie said, just now remembering that she'd been walking with Ethan. "Um, Ethan, Larry and I are going to the auditorium to rehearse. I'll see you later, okay?"  
  
Larry raised an eyebrow.  
  
Ethan nodded. "Cool. I'll see you in history."  
  
"You bet," she said cheerfully, and grabbed Tudgeman's arm, leading him down the hallway.  
  
"Not that I *mind* or anything, but just so you know, I didn't necessarily mean now," Tudgeman said, bewildered.  
  
"Yeah, sorry about that, but I just had to get out of there, you know? Ethan was so blah blah blah about golf, and I could really care less."  
  
"I thought you were head-over-heels for Ethan just like all the others," Larry said.  
  
"Well, I--I am," Lizzie stammered, suddenly uncertain. "And he seems like he might actually be interested in me, you know? This makes, like, the third day in a row where he's wanted to hang out with me at lunch, and he totally blew off Kate twice now to sit with *me*, and..." Lizzie paused for breath, then realized she wasn't sure what else to say. "I dunno. It's just weird, is all, I think that maybe he might like me a little."  
  
"How could he not?" Larry said flippantly, pushing the door to the auditorium open and holding it so she could go through. "Ah, just as I suspected, empty."  
  
"Is there any way we can bolt the door, so no one can walk in on us?" Lizzie asked, making her way down the aisle.  
  
"Okay, you *do* realize that you have the starring role in the school's musical, and that pretty much everyone *will* see you do this routine," Larry pointed out.  
  
"Yeah, but that'll be when I'm good," she said. She ducked backstage, rifled through the prop cabinet, and pulled out the spare Grease soundtrack CD that they used for practices. She popped it into the CD player while Larry flipped some switches, shedding light on the stage.  
  
Lizzie grabbed the remote, met Larry in the center of the stage. "Dancing first, then singing?" she asked.  
  
"Sounds like a plan."  
  
Lizzie pressed the button and let the music wash over them. 


	6. six

Disclaimer: no one mentioned belongs to me, I guarantee it.  
  
Disclaimer 2: I don't know the first thing about Grease, seeing as how I've seen it once. So if you were expecting to see lots of big musical numbers and lots of quoted dialogue, you probably won't. My apologies to any Grease-afficiandos that might be reading this.  
  
Author's note: sorry this is so late!!! I've been suffering the WORST writer's block lately, so none of my stories have been updated, and I'm really sorry about that. I'm also sorry that this chapter isn't up to par. I'll try harder next time.  
  
*Karasuma*Firestorm*  
  
~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~  
  
You're The One That I Want  
  
~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~  
  
"Ugh, I am too tired to move," Miranda groaned, collapsing onto the McGuire's couch. Lizzie fell next to her, while Gordo chose to lump himself into the armchair.  
  
"I hate this stupid play," Lizzie said. "Hate, hate, hate."  
  
Gordo said nothing, only made a grunting sound that sounded like he agreed.  
  
It was Friday night, and the trio had just gotten out of the most excruciating practice ever. Gordo, definitely not a good dancer, had enlisted Mr. Dig to help coach the cast in the choreography. It was approaching eight thirty now, and when Mrs. McGuire had gone to pick up her daughter, she'd collected her best friends as well, pronouncing that they needed to get their rest, and the living room was the best place to do it. She was in the kitchen, calling Gordo and Miranda's parents, asking if they could stay the night.  
  
"On the bright side, I think everyone has the choreography down one hundred percent," Miranda said.  
  
"What's the point in knowing the stuff cold if you're too tired to do it?" Lizzie griped.  
  
"Okay, kids, you can stay the night," Jo McGuire said, coming in the room and brandishing the phone. "Lizzie, call for you. It's a boy."  
  
"Boy..?" Lizzie asked, raising one eyebrow at her friends. She accepted the receiver. "Hello?"  
  
"Hey, Liz, it's Ethan."  
  
"Oh, *hey*, Ethan!" Lizzie said, having clearly caught her second wind. She grinned broadly, jumped to her feet, and darted out of the room, chattering with Ethan.  
  
Miranda stared at the blonde's retreating back. "What's with the sudden onslaught of this Lizzie-Ethan thing? Last I checked, they were 'just friends.'"  
  
Gordo looked worried. "You don't think it's serious or anything, is it?"  
  
"Why? 'Fraid of a little competition?" she said teasingly.  
  
Gordo glared at her. "No. It's just that...a guy like Ethan, for all we know, Lizzie could be flavor of the month. He has just about every girl in school after him, before long he's going to choose one of them and leave Lizzie in the dust."  
  
"I don't think you're giving him *or* her that much credit. Ethan's not the brightest crayon in the box --although he is the prettiest-- but he's not dense enough to not see a good thing when he's got it, and he and Lizzie have been friends for awhile now. Besides, Lizzie's too smart to let her heart get broken."  
  
"I think you're wrong, but I'm too tired to argue," Gordo mumbled. "Toss me a pillow, would you?"  
  
Miranda flung a throw pillow at him, which hit him squarely in the face. She expected a protest of some kind, but the only sound Gordo made was a light snore. Miranda smiled slightly. Poor Gordo was really wiped. For the last half hour of practice, he'd had a fallout with the kid doing the lighting, and the kid had quit. Gordo was in quite a mood, and he was also fairly convinced he'd failed the pop quiz in math because he'd forgotten to study the night before. When this whole play was over, Miranda decided she was taking Gordo out for as many curly fries as he could eat without puking.  
  
Miranda switched on the TV, and was in the middle of The Lion King when Lizzie returned, looking both elated and stupefied.  
  
"So how's the boyfriend?" Miranda said.  
  
"He is *not* my boyfriend, thank you very much," Lizzie said hotly, throwing herself on the couch.  
  
"You two are hanging out an awful lot..." Miranda answered, raising one eyebrow. "And now he's *calling* you..."  
  
"Okay, okay, so maybe he asked me to the dance at the end of the month," Lizzie admitted sheepishly.  
  
"And you're *going*, right?"  
  
"I don't know."  
  
Miranda's eyes widened to the size of saucers. "Um, hello? This *is* Lizzie I'm talking to, right? Elizabeth Brooke McGuire? Been in love with Ethan Craft since the seventh grade?"  
  
"Whoa! FYI, Miranda, I'm not in love with Ethan Craft. Okay? I mean, we're friends, and maybe I've had a crush on him --a *major* crush," she amended when she saw Miranda's pointed look, "but that doesn't mean we're going to get married or something. So he asked me to the dance. So what? I haven't decided if I'm going yet or not. I haven't decided if I want to. So can we watch The Lion King now? Please?"  
  
Miranda sighed, and turned up the volume. "Yeah. Okay. Fine." She glanced to Gordo and rolled her eyes. "Denial!" she mouthed, before she realized that Gordo was still asleep with the pillow over his face.  
  
But he wasn't the only one. By the time Mrs. McGuire returned to check on the kids, bearing a plate of cookies, the three of them were all fast asleep. Gordo's head had at one point dropped forward onto his chest, so the pillow now rested in his lap. Now his head was leaning precariously against the edge of the chair, threatening to plunge into open air. Miranda and Lizzie had both fallen to one side, and were slanted against each other.  
  
Mrs. McGuire smiled and shook her head, setting the plate down on the table. The poor kids were wearing themselves thin; but they seemed to be enjoying it. She hoped so, for their sakes.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Kate hung up the phone with a slam, and turned to Claire, looking like a wild woman. There was a fire in her eyes unlike anything Claire had ever known, and it made her want to shrink back. But she just frowned slightly. "What's wrong?" She'd only just gotten to Kate's house, and had missed the entire conversation, something that she deeply regretted, because seeing Kate at her worst put a bounce in Claire's step.  
  
"*That* was *Ethan*," Kate said. "I just called him up, and you won't *believe* this. He won't go with me to the dance."  
  
"No. Way," Claire said.  
  
"No, it's worse than that. Weirder than that. It's so Twilight Zone. He asked *McGuire*."  
  
Claire's jaw dropped in a very undignified, unflattering move. "He didn't!"  
  
"He did," Kate said grimly. "I can't believe this. It must be something in the stars or something, I don't know. First she gets the lead in the play, now she gets Ethan? All my hard work, and Losie McGuire reaps the benefits!" Kate made a face. "Ugh. That little goon is going to be sorry she ever crossed me." 


	7. seven

Disclaimer: no one mentioned belongs to me, I guarantee it.  
  
Disclaimer 2: I don't know the first thing about Grease, seeing as how I've seen it once. So if you were expecting to see lots of big musical numbers and lots of quoted dialogue, you probably won't. My apologies to any Grease-afficiandos that might be reading this.  
  
Author's note: This is wicked late, isn't it? God, I'm sorry. I went on vacation, one of my pets just died, and I just started my third semester at college, so as you can imagine, it's been hard trying to keep up with my fics. But I promise I'll do better in the future.  
  
~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~  
  
You're The One That I Want  
  
~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~  
  
Lizzie stared at her notebook through blurry eyes. She'd written things down, she knew she had, but they all seemed to be in hieroglyphics. Which was odd, seeing as how she didn't know hieroglyphics. And this was math class, anyway.  
  
"It's test day, everybody," Mrs. Wortman announced. "Clear off your desks, please."  
  
She was met by a unanimous groan, one that Lizzie took full participation in. She wasn't fully awake enough for a test, never mind the fact that it was third period and by all rights, she should be injected with life.  
  
But she was just so *tired*! Never mind Gordo not getting any sleep, he hadn't been at the school all afternoon yesterday, dancing. Lizzie had.  
  
"Miss McGuire, could you please clear your desk?" Mrs. Wortman said, standing over Lizzie's desk with a scolding expression. "The rest of us want to get this test over with, if you please, and I'm sure the class doesn't want to wait on you."  
  
"Looks like our little *star* is getting a case of the primadonnas," Claire said snottily.  
  
"Looks like you're contagious then, huh, Claire?" Miranda said from the seat in front of Lizzie. "Better quarantine yourself." She smiled sweetly while the class giggled.  
  
"Girls, please," Mrs. Wortman said, handing Lizzie a copy of the quiz. "This is an exam, quiet down."  
  
Claire, very maturely, stuck her tongue out at Miranda. Miranda returned the favor. Claire then, for some reason, looked over her shoulder at Lizzie, and muttered, "You'll get yours."  
  
Lizzie would have puzzled that over, but was far too tired to deal with both algebra and Claire Miller's weird inner workings. She frowned over the pages in front of her, but the letter may well have been more hieroglyphics, for all the sense it was making. "X equals...three...no, three point five..." she muttered to herself as she scribbled things out. She was positive she was going to fail, but she finished every last question all the same.  
  
When the bell rang, signaling the end of the horror that was math class, she shoved her books in her bag, thrust her quiz at Mrs. Wortman, and joined Miranda and Gordo out in the hall. "That test was total murder," she moaned.  
  
"It's just one test, Lizzie," Miranda said soothingly.  
  
"Coming from the girl who's barely pushing seventy," Gordo said.  
  
Miranda and Lizzie both glared at him, and he sighed and put his hands up in a surrendering gesture. "I know, I know," he said. "'Not helping, Gordo.'"  
  
"Got that right," Miranda said. "Anyway, Lizzie, it's no biggie, not like it's a midterm or anything. And doesn't Mrs. Wortman grade on a curve? It's not going to kill you if you failed."  
  
But the next day in math class, Mrs. Wortman called Lizzie and Kate to her desk at the final bell. Lizzie frowned. Anything involving Kate was wrong off the bat. "What's up?" she asked.  
  
Mrs. Wortman surveyed them both with a grim expression. "Girls, I was grading yesterday's exam, and came across something very disturbing." She pulled from a drawer in her desk two papers, which she lay on the desk and pushed forward. "Look at these two test papers. Notice anything?"  
  
Lizzie peered at them. "They have the same answers..." she said slowly, then it dawned on her. "And the exact same formulas."  
  
"Yes," Mrs. Wortman said, sounding tired. "These two papers are identical in every way except for the handwriting and the names at the top of the page. And if you'll notice, the two names belong to you two."  
  
"Wait...you don't think one of us *cheated*, did you?" Lizzie said, horrified.  
  
"Mrs. Wortman, I for one am *deeply* upset that you would consider me dishonest," Kate said self-importantly. Lizzie rolled her eyes at the usual tone.  
  
"And I, for one, am deeply upset that I would have to consider either of you cheaters," Mrs. Wortman said. "You've both been exemplary students in the past, very attentive, very hard-working." Lizzie was surprised to hear the phrase 'hard-working' referring to Kate Sanders. "Your grades aren't exactly stellar, neither of you, but that's not cause for cheating."  
  
"I didn't cheat, Mrs. Wortman," Lizzie said.  
  
"Neither did I," Kate said.  
  
Their teacher sighed. "Unfortunately, I cannot take either of you at your word. I'm going to ask that you both take a makeup test now, so that we can determine what to do. Take seats on opposite sides of the room."  
  
"But...fourth period!" Lizzie stammered.  
  
"I've had you both excused from your fourth period classes," Mrs. Wortman said, and handed Lizzie and Kate copies of the makeup test. "You have fifty minutes, girls."  
  
Lizzie gaped at Mrs. Wortman in complete disbelief. Kate was already bent over her page, scribbling away, so Lizzie blinked down at her paper. She'd barely gotten through the first test, and that she'd studied for (although not for long).  
  
But this she was completely unprepared for. She was running on only a few hours of sleep, she'd only had a slice of toast and a gulp of orange juice for breakfast, opening day was in a little over a week, she had a huge oral presentation for English to deliver after lunch, and now she was being accused of cheating. That, and she was having trouble in math anyway. These were *not* test-taking conditions.  
  
Lizzie handed in her paper when the bell rang, but she'd been stressed out and hadn't been able to finish a question or two. She hoped that Kate had done much, much worse. Judging by her smug smile, however, she hadn't.  
  
Lizzie's heart sank.  
  
~~~~~  
  
"It was completely unfair," Lizzie said. "You know me. I don't cheat."  
  
Neither of them said anything. Lizzie paled. "Guys?"  
  
"Well..." Miranda glanced guiltily at Gordo. "Remember when you were hanging out with Angel Lieberman last year?"  
  
"What? I didn't cheat! Angel did, but I..." Lizzie gulped. "Okay, once. But only once! And I felt *so* guilty about it, guys, really, I did, and I swore to myself that I'd never do it again, and I *haven't*. Honestly. I didn't cheat."  
  
"So Kate did?"  
  
Lizzie sighed. "I don't *know*. It doesn't seem like Kate, does it? I don't know. But if I didn't --*and I didn't*-- then she must have."  
  
"You can't prove anything," Gordo said.  
  
"No," she admitted.  
  
"This isn't good," he admitted, saying what all of them were thinking. "This isn't good at all."  
  
~~~~~  
  
At the end of eighth period, the last class of the day, Lizzie received a summons from the principal's office. She cast a worried look at Miranda and Gordo, who looked alarmed in return. When she got to the office, she wasn't surprised to see Mrs. Wortman there. Kate, however, was absent.  
  
"Miss McGuire, I have some unfortunate news," Principal Tweedy said. "Mrs. Wortman has informed me of the circumstances regarding yesterday's math test. She said that she gave you and Miss Sanders makeup tests. She says that while Miss Sanders passed, you, on the other hand, did not. Now, I have to ask you, Miss McGuire...did you cheat on yesterday's exam?"  
  
"No, I didn't," Lizzie said, trying to mentally force the beads of sweat that were popping out on her forehead back into her body.  
  
"Miss Sanders has made the same claim," Principal Tweedy said gravely, "and unfortunately, the test results indicate that Miss Sanders is the one with the firm grasp of the material."  
  
"Mr. Tweedy," Lizzie said, nervousness and panic edging her voice, "I swear I didn't cheat. I'm not a cheater! Honestly, I didn't. I haven't been getting much sleep lately, that's why I didn't do so well on the makeup test, but I know the material! Please, Mr. Tweedy, I didn't cheat!"  
  
"Miss McGuire," Mrs. Wortman said sadly from the seat next to Lizzie, "no one would like to believe you more than I. But I'm afraid the results speak for themselves. We're going to have to take action."  
  
Lizzie's eyes grew wide and she abandoned all pretense of being calm. "You're not going to suspend me, are you?" she asked desperately.  
  
"Considering this is your first offense of this matter, no, Miss McGuire, we won't suspend you. But your after school activities are restricted."  
  
Horror gripped at Lizzie. "You don't mean..."  
  
"Yes, Miss McGuire. I'm taking you out of the play." 


End file.
